by H. M Reilly
She reached for one of the albums at the bottom of the pile. Upon opening it, she came across a photo of a beautiful couple laughing on a mini-golf court set. A handful of others chronicled their relationship up to a few wedding photos. On the next few pages, she came across some baby pictures of two boys and a girl. Baptismal photos, first birthdays, and even first day of school and Christmases followed on the next several pages. She recognized her dad in a few of the photos with his light brown hair and her uncle with his lighter hair.
She switched to another photo album that included more family photos where her dad and uncle were older. She moved to the couch with the photo album, taking her time as she leafed through the pages. High school sports, prom photos, and recitals. Her dad’s sister, her mom, was beautiful with her long dark hair and eyes. Growing up, Charlotte heard many times that she looked just like her mother except for those amber eyes.
Charlotte never met her mom, but she knew some things about her. Her dad didn’t talk much about her, but she knew she had passed away as a teenager moments after giving birth to Charlotte. The thought that she would never meet her real mother filled her with an empty sadness, and Rachel’s attitude toward her only made that feeling worse.
“Charlotte?”
“In here, Grandma,” she said. She glanced up from the photo album in her lap.
“Looking through the photo albums?”
“Yeah.”
“What are you looking for?” she asked. Her grandmother had a seat at the edge of the couch closest to her. Charlotte glanced up and scooted over. She stopped on a photo of Nicole or Nikki as everyone called her. She was smiling from ear to ear with a piece of chocolate cake in front of her and a party hat sitting crooked on her head. She had a bulge at her belly.
“Not really. Just looking,” she said. “What was my mother like? My real mother.” She glanced up at her grandmother.
“I don’t know what your dad has told you, but I’m sure you know that your real mother was his younger sister, my only daughter, Nikki.”
“Yes, Dad told me when I was younger.” Charlotte said, returning to the photo album in her lap, leafing through the pages of photos. “What was she like?”
“Nikki. My sweet Nicole. She always had big dreams for herself. Wanted to go to Hollywood and make movies. Until she met your father.”
“What about my father? What was he like?”
“I didn’t really know much about him. I met him once or twice, but we didn’t like having him around. He was not a very nice person, but Nikki adored him for some reason.”
“What was his name?”
“I don’t remember. He was an immigrant from somewhere in Europe from what I remember. Ireland or Scotland, maybe? We didn’t hear from him after Nikki told us she was pregnant. We couldn’t find him.”
As she continued through the pages, Charlotte noticed the corner of a picture peeking from behind several others and pulled it out of the sleeve. The picture was from an old Polaroid camera. Nikki sat close to a dark-haired man with amber eyes. The two smiled in a loving gaze at each other as they shared an ice cream sundae between them. Charlotte glanced at the back of the photo, finding nothing, and looked up at her grandmother. “Is this him?”
“Yes, that’s him.”
“You don’t know what happened to him?” Her voice was soft, quiet, as she stared at the photo of the young couple. Her grandmother shook her head and rose from the couch, patting the top of Charlotte’s head. “I’m going to go finish dinner, my dear.”
It almost felt weird to ask about someone she never met or gave a second thought to, and she never wondered about him growing up. She had always known her dad, and the love Adam showed her never made Charlotte feel less than wanted. But for that moment, looking at her real father’s picture, she wondered why he disappeared, why he never came to find her. Did he even know she existed?
She set the photo album back on the shelf and searched for a book to read to help clear her mind until dinner, but she could not focus enough. Instead, she closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths in hopes of calming herself.
After dinner, her grandmother served a dessert of cherry pie with ice cream while Adam worked on starting a fire for his parents. Before long, flames roared in the hearth. “I wish you three didn’t have to leave so soon. You don’t visit enough anymore, Adam.”
“I've just been busy, Mom. Leila has school in the morning, and I have to work.”
“What about you, Charlotte?”
“I don’t have anything going on tomorrow, Grandma. I’ll give you a call, okay?”
“I would like that, my dear. And I’m sure your grandfather would too,” she said. The two women glanced over at her grandfather dozed in his recliner. Charlotte snickered and gave her grandmother another hug.
“We gotta get going, Mom.”
“Okay. Call me when you get home.”
“I will,” he said. They left through the front door with a container of leftovers for Rachel and a little extra for the three of them. A cold wind blew through the trees as they climbed into the car, the clouds floating through the night. A fingernail moon hung low in the sky with a halo glowing around it.
Charlotte leaned back in the seat as she listened to the music coming from the stereo. She turned her attention out the window. Her mind was still reeling from everything her grandma said and the photograph of her parents. Was there something more her grandma wasn’t telling her or something her family didn’t want her to know? Maybe something that explained why her uncle made that comment referring to her as “little devil spawn.” She now had unanswered questions, and the very people who could help answer were those who raised them.
CHAPTER 3
Charlotte had earbuds in, but she could still hear the shouting over her music. Jack laid on the bed beside her. She lifted her gaze towards the door as she grabbed her cell phone to turn down the music before going back to the drawing in her lap. She listened to the yelling.
“You really think yelling is going to change my mind? Charlotte is our daughter. And you disliking her isn’t gonna change shit.”
“She is not mine. She's not yours either. She is your sister’s daughter, and she's a danger in this house and to your family. I don’t want her here any longer,” Rachel shouted. Charlotte reached over and paused her music, plucking one of the buds from her ears.
“Charlotte is my family. Whether you like it or not.”
“Well, I don’t like it, Adam. And I want her to leave. There are other places she can go. I don’t want her here anymore.”
“Where is she gonna go?
“I don’t care. She could go back to New Mexico for all I care. I just don't want her in this house anymore. It’s gonna bring that evil crap here.”
“You sound just like my brother.”
“Good. At least someone agrees with me.”
“If she can’t stay, then I'm leaving, too.”
“And where the hell are you gonna go?”
“I thought you didn’t care?” he retorted.
“I don’t care where she goes, but you can’t just leave me and Leila here alone.”
“That's what you think.”
“So, you’re just going to leave Leila and me here alone?”
“And I'm just supposed to abandon my oldest daughter?”
“She’s not your daughter, Adam!”
“Yes, she is. I raised her, and that makes her my daughter. You knew this before we even talked about getting married,” he said. “If Leila wants to come, she can come with me.”
“Over my dead body she will.”
“She’s almost eighteen now. I think she can make her own decisions. But you know what? That’s fine. Charlotte and I will get out of your way.” Adam announced.
Charlotte had heard this fight several times growing up, and Rachel's words still managed to cut into her after all these years. After all, Rachel was the only real mother figure she had growing up. Her grandma had to be t
he only other woman who would come close, but growing up, her dad limited trips up to Colorado for reasons unknown to her.
A moment later, the front door slammed, and the force rattled the office window. Charlotte glanced out the window to see Rachel as she marched across the yard and stepped into her car. A dark blue SUV peeled out of the driveway and tore down the street. Charlotte sat there and listened to the silence, waiting.
Jack leaped from the window and crossed the room to drink from his dish. She lifted the earbud back to her ear and unpaused the music, just as there was a knock at the door. “Yes?”
“Can I come in?”
“Sure,” she said. Adam stepped in, shutting the door behind him. “I heard you and Rachel fighting.”
“I figured you did. You didn’t need to hear it, though.”
“Kinda hard not to when she yells the way she does.” She shrugged. “Not like I haven't heard before. She's never really liked me, Dad. I don't know why you stay with her.”
“I know you two don't get along, but I'm not going to have a discussion about this,” he said.
“I'll just go back to New Mexico. I'm sure Adriana and Rob would let me sleep on their couch.”
“No. I don't want you to do that, Charlie. I'll talk to your grandparents about staying over there. I've already mentioned it to them. They have a guest room you and Jack can stay in, and I can sleep on their couch for a bit.” He glanced around her room, unopened boxes still sitting in the corner. “I don't think you need to worry about packing.”
“No, just Jack. But you don't have to go with me. I'm a big girl now, Dad.”
“Don’t worry about what I’m doing, Charlie,” he said. Jack strolled up with a chirp, and Adam reached down, scratching the top of his head. “We'll just pack your things into the back of your truck, get Jack, and head on up to Hollow's Creek.”
It didn’t take long before the two were on their way.
A couple of weeks passed when Charlotte realized living in a small town was a much different experience than a city. She had been up in the Colorado mountains many times as a kid, but living up in the forest was different. For one, the trees outnumbered the human population. She enjoyed the silence of the evenings and the fresh mountain air.
Living with her grandparents made her feel as if she was part of a family. There was no tension at the dinner table, nor were there any awkward silences. Despite Rachel calling a couple of times to have short-lived arguments with Adam, he seemed more relaxed than she had seen him in years. She could see the lines of stress melt away from his face. Hollow's Creek felt like home.
A few weeks passed, and Rachel called again. Charlotte glanced in her dad's direction when he answered his phone. “Rachel, I don't want to--” She couldn’t hear what Rachel said, but she watched her dad a moment as he sat there listening. She didn't want to argue. All she wanted was for her family to come back home. “We've had this talk too many times. More than I can count. Are you going to continue talking badly about my daughter?” He glanced over at Charlotte, who had returned her attention back to the movie playing on the television. He rose from his seat and snuck out into the hallway, his parents lounging on the couch in front of the television. Charlotte could hear her dad talking down the hall, his voice muffled by the distance.
Fresh tortillas and lemonade accompanied the stew her grandmother made for dinner that night, but her dad didn’t join them. Afterward, Charlotte went up to her room, where she spent the rest of the night, sitting hunched over her desk with a sketchpad in front of her. She sat with her headphones in until a phone call interrupted. Adriana’s name popped up on her screen, and she set aside her drawing, crawling into bed to talk to her friend. Jack joined and curled up right beside her as she talked the night away, catching up with her best friend, and in that time, Charlotte felt all her worries melt away.
The curtains danced as the cool autumn breeze slipped through the window. She pulled her pillow tight, rolling to her back and staring up at the patchy ceiling. She didn't remember falling asleep last night, but she found her phone lying on the covers nearby when it started to ring. An unknown number appeared across the display. She hesitated a moment but swiped her finger across the screen. “Hello?”
“Charlie? I was hoping you would answer.”
Charlotte closed her eyes as she recognized the voice on the other end. She should have just let the call go to voicemail. “Julian.”
“What? You don’t sound too happy to hear from me.”
“Why should I? I haven’t heard from you in weeks, and all of a sudden, you just call me out of the blue. What do you want?” She moved to the edge of the bed and lowered her head. The only thing stopping her from throwing her phone across the room was money, which she had very little of to hold her over.
“I know we haven’t talked since you left, but I was just thinking about you. I miss you. I wanted to hear your voice,” he said.
What a crock of shit.
“Missing me? What about that little slut of yours?” she quipped. She gritted her teeth, using every ounce of control to hold her anger.
“She’s not here. Cassie is in class right now,” he said. “Can’t we just talk? Not about Cassie. This doesn’t concern her. I just missed you. Wanted to talk to you.”
“Buuull-shit, Julian. I don’t want to talk to you.”
“Dammit, Charlotte! I just wanted to talk to my best friend and see how you been doing. Doesn’t that mean anything to you? After years?”
“No, it doesn’t. Because if you were my best friend, you wouldn’t have fucked someone else. You made your choice. So leave me the fuck alone.”
Anger pumped through her veins, clouding her mind like white noise, her heartbeat pumping in her ears. She threw her phone across the room, and it crashed against the wall with a crunch. She left her room, stormed out of the hall, and shut the bathroom door. She stepped up to the sink, catching her reflection in the mirror with a gasp. Part of the bathroom sat in shadows, but she couldn’t turn back to flip on the second light.
The amber hue of her eyes had been swallowed by dilated pupils, leaving a dark void in place of her eyes. Dark veins had appeared across her cheeks and up to her eyes. Her pupils flickered, shrinking down to slits in the shape of a cat’s eyes, but coming face to face with this inhuman reaction did little more than shock her. She was no longer afraid of the dark face that came to the surface in front of her.
She could pick out a handful of occurrences over the years when she saw her eyes and face change. She had seen her eyes turn dark, overwhelmed by her cat-shaped pupils. She knew these things were not normal, but she also knew they were a part of her. Over time, she came to understand that a strong emotional response triggered these reactions in her. Lust, anger, sadness seemed to bring about the strongest reaction, but she still didn’t know why, nor did she really understand how.
Tears welled in her eyes as she tried to control the warmth of anger vibrating through her. She closed her eyes, gripping the sides of the sink, her mind going back to an earlier time.
She shut her sketchpad and slipped it into her backpack, glancing up at the clock hanging on the wall. A loud bell rang through the room when the day finally came to an end. Those around her rose to their feet and swung their bags over their shoulders, but Charlotte stayed behind to finish packing her things.
She made her way out of the classroom and into the hall as her peers scattered out the front door. Friday afternoons were always a blur of excitement. The jocks in their jackets and the cheerleaders in their outfits shouted across the hall to one another.
She slipped her bag across her torso and pulled her long, dark hair from the strap, pushing through the crowd, and found an escape through one of the side doors. She crossed the patio full of people talking with one another, many with cigarettes in their hands and teachers unsuccessfully shooing them away. A cool breeze slipped by, carrying the aroma of smoke.
Charlotte stepped through the parking lot, passing
the line of waiting buses. The day was too nice to be cooped in a huge vehicle with sweaty jerks. The crisp fall air rolled past in a few strong gusts, carrying a leaf or two through the gutter, and she pulled her hood on, her long locks dancing in the wind.
A few cars passed by, and she stepped up to the sidewalk, pulling out her mp3 player. After slipping the earbuds into her ears, she pushed the volume up. Another gust of wind blew past, and an old truck drove by, but she didn’t notice the tires screech over the music blasting in her ears. A beer can hit her in the back of the head, and she could already hear their insults as she pulled out her earbud. She lifted her amber gaze in their direction, her pupils widening as she turned towards them. “Fucking freak.”
Anger rose within her, bringing a black energy up right along with it. Blood pumped harder through her veins, thrumming in her ears with every beat of her heart, her face warm and flushed. One of the girls, whom she had seen around the halls many times, jumped down from the truck and approached, spitting in her face.
Charlotte couldn’t remember what happened after that, but still remembered the anger and the aftereffects. She remembered lying in bed that night listening to her parents fight after a phone call from concerned parents. Her dark eyes were still wet with tears, her pupils dilated with emotion. Her hands hurt like hell, and she could taste the copper on her tongue.